Nobody's Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  She filled her lungs with as much air as she could stand and held her breath. Oh dear lord. Why couldn't she breathe? She pressed her hand to her chest and tucked her elbow against her left side, near where Lyle had kicked her repeatedly. Was something broken?

  How had her father and his partner found her after all these years? She'd changed her name, her looks, everything she could in order to keep from being found. No way would she ever let them anywhere near her daughter to do any of the things they'd done to her when she had been under her father's control. In some ways, while Lyle had only been her handler, he was more sadistic than her father. Lyle had been the one to place her father's shameful mark on her. He'd enjoyed hearing her scream and often inflicted even more pain than what her father had ordered.

  She opened the car door, got behind the steering wheel, and turned the key in the ignition. She couldn't zone out now. She needed to get to San Miguel's…to Mari.

  Then what?

  The image of Damián Orlando in her office, comforting Teresa, his niece and her former client, and of him later, standing over the inert body of the girl's rapist father last month alternated before her eyes.

  No. She could never go to him. He was dangerous in a totally different way from Lyle and her father—but still oh so dangerous.

  Chapter One

  Damián wasn't home. What now?

  She'd arrived in Denver a couple of hours ago and had come straight to the address Anita had retrieved from Teresa's file at the clinic. Savi had already driven across the state of California by the time Anita—the woman who worked as the clinic's receptionist and was more like a mother figure to Savi than anything else—returned her call for help. Savi had known Damián lived somewhere in Denver and had instinctively headed in that direction after picking up Mari at the church. The further away she could take herself and her daughter from Lyle and her father, the better.

  Looking into a patient's confidential file was unethical, not to mention illegal. Anita was aware of that, too, but had taken the risk based on the stories Savi had told her about some of the brutalities her father and Lyle had inflicted on her over the years. Even that limited knowledge made Anita understand the need to keep Savi and Mari out of harm's way, regardless of whether it meant her friend would lose her job, too.

  Savi hoped that wouldn't happen. She owed Anita everything, from that day so long ago where the older woman had taken a scared and pregnant runaway into her home. Savi didn't want her friend to become more collateral damage in her father's need to control his daughter—and now his granddaughter.

  Looking into the backseat, she saw Mari still slept soundly. When Damián hadn't answered his door, she'd taken Mari to get something to eat at a fast-food place down the street, and then returned to knock at his door again. Still no answer. She'd decided to wait for him in the parking lot, knowing of no other place to look for him.

  After an hour or so, she began to worry that perhaps he'd returned to California for a visit or gone somewhere else for the weekend. Didn't everyone in Colorado ski? What if he didn't come home at all tonight? She couldn't risk getting a motel room and using a credit card. Most decent ones wouldn't take cash without a credit card to back it up. She didn't want Mari to sleep in the cold car or in some "no tell" motel where predators might be a more imminent threat.

  What if Damián brought a woman home? Awkward, to say the least. Yet, she and Mari had nowhere else to go. Fear clawed at her, but she pushed it away. She needed to stay strong for Mari.

  Off and on for the past hour, she'd run the engine a few minutes to keep the car's temperature comfortable. Mari had fallen asleep soon after dinner. Her beautiful baby had asked a thousand questions on the almost two-day drive here, but seemed content when Savi told her they were going to visit the nice man they'd met at church after choir practice a while back. Savi couldn't believe Mari even remembered him, but she'd asked immediately, "Damián?"

  Please, God, don't let this be an emotional disaster for either of them. Neither could afford to complicate their lives with impossible emotional attachments. And anything having to do with a man would be impossible.

  So, then, why was she here on Damián's doorstep?

  Simply put, there was no one else she could turn to. Everyone in California could be controlled or easily coerced by her father, except for Father Martine and Anita. Her priest already had put himself in danger, too, by giving her cash to travel on. Both of them had promised not to reveal anything to Lyle if he tracked her to either of them.

  The roar of a motorcycle entering the parking lot drew her attention, her mind returning to a time when she'd ridden on the back of a Harley, her chest and thighs pressed against Damián's body and her arms wrapped around his waist. Her face grew warm.

  She watched as the man in the leather pants and the Harley Davidson-emblazoned vest pulled into a numbered spot near the stairway. His lean, muscular body looked lethal. He set the kickstand, turned and removed the key, and swung his leg over the back of the bike, then unhooked the chin strap on his helmet.

  Damián.

  Before he'd even pulled the helmet off, she'd recognized him. Her heart thudded, surprising her. His queue exposed below the helmet at the nape of his neck tipped her off, then he turned sideways and she saw the familiar mustache and goatee. He didn't look in her direction, but made his way to the stairway. His shoulders slumped a bit as Savi watched him make his way up the steel staircase to the second floor of the old motel building. Was he limping? She hoped he wouldn't be too tired to help deal with two unexpected and desperate guests tonight, because she was about to invade his world with a vengeance.

  Again.

  He'd helped immobilize Teresa's father last month when the bastard had returned to try and hurt his daughter again. Teresa, Damián's sixteen-year-old niece, had been raped nearly five weeks ago by the bastard. Savi had been making progress as Teresa's therapist…until she'd been fired. Teresa was lucky to have a champion like Damián. Now Mari and Savi needed him.

  Glancing at her sleeping daughter, she decided to just lock her in the car rather than disturb her. Damián's apartment was in a converted motel complex with an exterior entrance. Savi wouldn't go inside or let the car out of her sight. She didn't know why it was important, but she didn't want to drag Mari up there only to be disappointed by him if he turned them away. In that case, it would be better to just leave and say he hadn't come home.

  After summoning enough courage to proceed, Savi held her side and took as deep a breath as possible. She opened the door and got out, but shut the door quickly when hit by a blast of frigid wind. She hoped she hadn't let too much of the car's warmth escape. A quick check through the backseat window told her Mari still slept. Savi hoped she'd be able to tuck her into a real bed tonight.

  She slipped on a patch of snow as she crossed the parking lot to the stairway and pain ripped up her side, then faded. These shoes weren't really suitable for winter. The wind out of the mountains outside Denver they'd driven through cut into her thin jacket, as well. Father Martine had loaded them down with blankets and clothes from the church's clothing bank, but they didn't get weather like this in Solana Beach.

  She hadn't had money to spare for new clothes, but if they were going to stay here any time at all, she needed to get Mari a warm coat. She'd look into finding a thrift store tomorrow.

  As she climbed the stairs, she pulled out a pair of sunglasses. She must look ridiculous wearing them at night, but she didn't want to freak Damián out first thing by letting him see her bruised and swollen eye from Lyle's attack. She couldn't totally hide her cheek, but glasses were better than nothing.

  Steeling herself, she pressed the doorbell. Savi waited, crossing her arms to help keep warm when a shiver coursed through her. Concerned about Mari, she turned and looked back down at the car parked under a bright street light. Safe.

  When the door opened, she was forced to turn toward him. A look of surprise, then concern, crossed his face at seeing her.


  “Did something happen to Teresa?”

  “Teresa? No.” Then realization dawned. She held out her hand with the palm facing him to allay his fears. “No! I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Another blast of cold air caused her to wrap her arms tighter around herself.

  “Come in.” He stood aside and motioned her in.

  “No, I can’t. I…” Savi looked toward the car, then back at him, not knowing where to start.

  “Why are you here? How did you find me?”

  She lowered her head, wishing he'd give her more time to collect her thoughts. How did she answer those questions without getting the door slammed in her face? But she needed him, so she might as well be up front. She lifted her gaze to him. “I looked at the next of kin info in Teresa’s file.” She didn't want to implicate Anita in the breach of confidentiality. “We need your help.”

  “We?”

  She glanced at the car again. His gaze followed. Time for the reveal—and to talk. Savi removed the glasses.

  Damián's nostrils flared and his eyes became narrowed slits. She fought hard not to back away and let him know his anger scared her. She needed him to help her, terrified or not.

  “Who hit you?” He ground out the words as if he wanted to pound something.

  “I can’t say, but we need a place to hide out for a while, until I can figure out what to do.”

  “Marisol? Is she okay?”

  Savi nodded. “She’s asleep in the car. We drove day and night. I was afraid to fly or stay in motels. I didn’t want to leave a trail.”

  He scanned the parking lot. “Look, that car’s going to get cold PDQ. Why don’t you get Marisol and come inside to warm up?”

  She held her arm to her side, hating to admit weakness. “I can’t lift her.”

  His gaze raked over her body, assessing her. “Give me your keys. I’ll get her.”

  She hesitated a moment. You have to trust him. You can't do this alone. Then another blast of cold air hit her in the face and took her breath away. She looked down at the parking lot and pulled the keys out of her jacket pocket. “Follow me.”

  “No. You don’t need to be going up and down those stairs. You look like you’re about to keel over. Just tell me which car.”

  “The light blue Nissan.” She pointed to her sedan parked under the light.

  “Go sit down. I’ll be right back.”

  Like hell. She watched him walk back down the stairs, holding onto the rail, and to walk across the lot to the car. Using the remote, the headlights flashed, and he opened the back door. Gently he lifted her baby into his arms and made his way back up the stairs carefully, one hand on Mari, draped over his shoulder, and one on the railing. Seeing him being so careful with her daughter made her think she'd made the right decision to come here.

  At the top of the stairs he seemed surprised, then annoyed, to find Savi waiting for him, rather than going inside as he'd asked her. No, he'd definitely ordered her. She'd needed to be sure Mari was safe, but she didn't take orders from any man anymore.

  Savi fell into step beside him and opened the door for them. Once inside, she locked the door.

  He turned to whisper to her, “Help me get her into bed. Then we’ll talk.” Damián led the way across the living room and stood beside what must be the bedroom door, which Savi opened for him. A blast of cold air hit them. Was there any heat in there? The living room had seemed wonderfully warm after being outside, but this room was freezing.

  The bed was made and Savi pulled down the vintage, apparently handmade Mexican-Indian designed comforter and watched as he laid Mari’s head so carefully on the pillow. Then he lifted her legs onto the bed. When he reached to remove her shoes, Savi grabbed his hands, afraid he was going to undress her.

  “No! I’ll do that.”

  Holding up his hands, he backed off. While she unlaced the sneakers, Damián walked over to the wall near the doorway and adjusted the thermostat. She decided to leave Mari's jacket on for added warmth for now.

  He whispered, “It’ll warm up in here in no time.”

  Savi pulled the comforter and sheet over her baby and bent down to kiss her.

  Sleep well, love. You're safe for now.

  Savi stood and turned, wincing as her chest muscles constricted. She held her hand to her left side again before noticing she'd attracted unwanted attention from Damián. She forced her hand back to her side. He motioned for her to lead the way into the living room. When he started to close the door, she placed her hand over his. “No!” Realizing she'd overreacted again, she shrugged slightly. Now she'd have to explain what was going on. But how much could she tell him? “Mari might wake up and be frightened to find herself in a strange bed.”

  He nodded, seeming to accept her response, and he turned to proceed into the living room. “Can I get you a Coke, beer, tea, or something?”

  She remembered a similar offer at Teresa's house in Solana Beach. “No Kool-Aid?” She smiled, then caught herself. What had come over her? This was no time for teasing.

  “Sorry. When the munchkins aren’t around, I prefer beer.” He grinned.

  “A Coke sounds good. I need to keep my wits about me.”

  He went to the fridge and pulled out a can of Coke. “Glass and ice?”

  “No. The can’s fine.”

  He handed it to her and she popped the top. “Let me take your jacket.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’ll just keep it on.”

  His dubious expression told her he didn't buy her assurance, but he motioned for her to have a seat on the sofa. He sat down at the other end and reached over to pick up an open bottle of Dos Equis.

  His gaze targeted her. “Who hit you?”

  The time for polite pleasantries was over. Savi wasn't sure where to start. She lifted the soda to her lips and tipped her head back, drinking long and slow, then lowered the can again and stared at it a moment, tracing a fingernail around the rim.

  “Was it your husband?”

  Her what? She looked up, frowning, then shook her head. “I’m not married.” What had made him think otherwise? Then he looked at her left hand, and she remembered the wedding band she always wore in public, to ward off unwanted male advances. He'd seen it on her at the clinic, but she never wore it at home and hadn't picked it up to bring with her when she ran. Of course, he knew she had a daughter. He'd drawn a logical conclusion.

  He met her gaze again. “I have a friend who was a corpsman—a medic—in Iraq. Will you let him check out your injuries?”

  No way. She squared her shoulders and sat up a little straighter, willing herself to show no sign of discomfort or difficulty breathing deeply. “What injuries?”

  “Well, there’s the black eye, swelling, bruising on your face. You’ve also been favoring your left side. Did he hit you there, too?”

  She sagged against the sofa. “It’s nothing.”

  “Let my friend be the judge of that.”

  She hadn't come here seeking medical help. She needed protection for her daughter. “I’m not leaving Mari.”

  “Who said anything about leaving? He’ll come over here if I ask him.”

  “No. The fewer people who know I’m here, the better.”

  “Who are you running from, Savannah?”

  A flash of anger sparked through her at his use of that name. “I told you not to call me that.”

  He grinned, but just diverted the inquisition in a new direction. “I liked your hair better blonde. Why did you change it?”

  She hadn't been a blonde in seven years. “None of your business.”

  He leaned toward her. Savi tried not to let him intimidate her, but he did. His nose had been broken. She remembered noticing that all those years ago and still wondered if it had happened in a fight. The man had a lethal aura about him.

  “Hey, chica, you just showed up on my doorstep out of nowhere, beaten up and on the run. You’re the one who asked me for help, so don’t go getting all defensive. I’m just
trying to figure out what the hell’s going on.”

  When she didn't respond, he sat back and drained his beer, then lowered the empty bottle to nestle in his crotch. She averted her attention from that part of his anatomy and reached up to twirl a strand of her hair. A wave of discomfort crashed against her. She hadn't been alone in a room with a man in almost forever.

  “I felt safer changing my appearance.”

  “Marisol’s father?”

  Her hand froze on the curl as her heart thudded, robbing her of even more oxygen. Did he know? She looked up at him again, studying his face for some time. “What about him?”

  “Is he the one who roughed you up and sent you running?”

  He didn't know. She relaxed into the sofa and took another swig of the soda, buying time as she tried to will her heartbeat to slow down. “No. He’s been out of my…out of the picture from day one.” She looked away. She'd tried to find Damián when she'd gotten strong enough to function after Mari's birth, but failed. Then she'd decided they were better off without a man to complicate things.

  “Let me see where you’re hurt.”

  She refused to make eye contact. “No. I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit, chica.” His anger caused her to look up at him again, and he held her gaze. “Your choice—me or my friend? Which will it be?”

  Anger ripped through her again. She hadn't come all this way to have him expose her to her father's hound dogs by leaving a paper trail, which is what would happen if he involved medical personnel. She glared at him for a moment, but he refused to back down. Leaning forward, she winced at the pain and tried to hide her shortness of breath. Catching herself more slowly than she might normally, she masked her features and set the soda can on top of a magazine on the coffee table.

  She sat back against the sofa, putting more space between them. “It’s nothing. Really. Just a bruise.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. I have some…expertise with bruising. Remove your jacket.”

  She continued to wage a silent battle of wills with him, but after a few moments decided they needed to get beyond this or she'd never get him to help. She raised a shaking hand to loosen the belt of her jacket, then tried to control the shaking as she reached up to undo the top button.